


Two Turquoise Stones

by masterroadtripper



Series: Desert Gems [1]
Category: Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (2010)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn With Plot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28121481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterroadtripper/pseuds/masterroadtripper
Summary: Holding Dastan in his arms now, his head resting in the center of Bis’s chest, brown hair mingling amongst the gold chain that held his turquoise stone, their hearts beating as one, legs tangled together so much so that he wasn’t sure which belonged to himself anymore, Bis knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
Relationships: Bis/Dastan (Prince of Persia)
Series: Desert Gems [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199534
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Two Turquoise Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Set a couple of years before the start of the movie.

“Bis, I’m bored,” were three words that Bis had heard almost daily for years, spoken from the mouth of his best friend with a tone that only Dastan could manage. Yet, Bis never tired of hearing those words, because to him, it proved that nothing had changed. It proved that his best friend and lover was still the same goofy kid that he’d fallen in love with all those years ago on the streets of Nasaf.

“Bis,” Dastan groaned again from his place at the heavy oak desk in the corner of his chambers, his head fully resting forwards on the wood between two massive stacks of parchments, his long muscled arms hanging down towards the floor, limp.

“Well, you have to finish what the king gave you by tomorrow, don’t you?” Bis said, mostly teasing.

From his place sprawled on his back on Dastan’s bed, waiting for his lover to finish his otherworldly princely duties, he’d been making random small talk and just listening to the soft muttered noises the brown-haired boy made as he worked. To some, it might grow boring, but to Bis, it was simply fulfilling enough to be in the presence of the one person he loved more than the entire contents of the world combined. The one person he’d do anything for.

“I know Bis,” Dastan groaned again, moving just enough for one soft blue eye to look across the room towards where Bis was laying. Knowing his friend wouldn’t be getting any more work done for the night, his thoughts firmly sidetracked into topics beyond trade agreements and weapon purchases, he gave Dastan a look that was reserved for their private chambers alone.

“Bis,” Dastan said warningly, but Bis knew his resolve was breaking, judging by the incredibly attractive blush of red painted across his cheeks.

“Dastan,” Bis parrotted back, dropping the tone of his voice into a range much closer to seduction now than actual teasing, “C’mere you.”

Without complaint, retort or comment, Dastan stood from the desk and walked across the room, the small tent in his pants betraying him, the blush that was spread across his cheeks now creeping down his neck and across his chest.

“You can finish later,” Bis explained, raising his head only slightly from where he was laying, but uncrossing his arms and reaching up towards Dastan like the man would often do when he had to wake up early in the morning but did not feel like it.

“I guess they can wait a couple of hours,” Dastan agreed, climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees.

Crawling up towards him, Bis watched as Dastan let his elbows buckle and gently fall forwards into his arms. Even though it was warm out, it wasn’t nearly hot enough to make their proximity uncomfortable and so Bis relished in being able to hold his lover close to him and take in the smell of his hair and skin underneath the palace bathing oils. The smell that hadn’t seemed to have changed, even after all these years.

Bis glanced down at the head of brown hair resting under his chin and even though he couldn’t see it, he could feel the small creep of Dastan’s smile as lightly chapped lips pressed at the bare skin under his cheek. The slight grind of strong hips into the flesh of Bis’s thigh left very little to the imagination as to the directions that Dastan’s mind was headed towards.

Rolling out from under Dastan fast enough for the bigger man to land on his back on the mattress, Bis pressed his lips to his lovers, settling firmly on top of him. Squirming and twisting underneath Bis, Dastan moaned into Bis’ mouth, the sounds muffled but no less potent as the warm spikes of lust and desire shot down into his gut. Grinding forwards just a little to give himself and Dastan both some relief, Bis trailed his hands down the front of his lover's bare chest to start unlacing the straps, buckles and knots that kept the layers of fabric on his body.

He wanted to see the chiselled muscles shaking, quivering and contracting under his touch in a way that only he could do. Even when they trained together, it was nothing like when Dastan was laid out underneath him. He could make his lover's body do things that only he ever got to see and it made Bis feel powerful. Powerful that he could bring Dastan to such heights with his hands alone. That he loved Dastan and was loved back.

Managing to get the bigger man free from his multiple belts and lacings that he insisted on wearing regardless of what they were doing, Bis started pushing at the burgundy fabric, one arm holding himself up without putting too much weight on Dastan, the other trying to free the tanned skin from its coverings. Once he’d gotten as much off as he could without crushing his lover, Bis started kissing down the lightly stubbled and scarred face and chin underneath him. Pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple and the dip of skin between his collar bones, Bis switched hands to get the other side of Dastan’s pants down.

Kissing the turquoise stone inlaid in the necklace Dastan had worn since they were kids on the streets of Nasaf, Bis thanked whatever higher powers were looking over Dastan. His reckless and brave soldier that, by all rights, should have been killed by now, was laying underneath him. The matching stone that Dastan had given Bis a couple of years back, that he’d found during a raid on a city that he’d done with Garsiv, now inlaid into a necklace of his own. A promise that they were a matching pair that could not be separated by anything on this earth.

Pressing a second kiss into the stone, Bis looked up at Dastan and saw that the slightly older boy was looking down at him now, his head no longer mashed backwards into the pillow, his eyes slightly glassy with a smile that Bis knew was reserved for him.

“Bis,” Dastan whispered, shifting a little, his name spoken in a way that meant what he could not say.

The three little words that Dastan had never quite been able to bring himself to say out loud, but that Bis had heard him whispering into Bis’ curls at night when he was pretending to be asleep. He hadn’t expected to hear it slip out from Dastan’s lips and while Bis had managed to stay quiet, it had been so hard to not say it back.

“Dastan,” Bis replied, much in the same tone, crawling back up and kissing Dastan’s lips. Pulling back to sit up, Bis tugged at his own pants, loosening the only string that had been holding them up all day. Kicking them free, Dastan copied the movement and Bis pressed himself back into the line of his lover's body.

Pressing down and feeling the delicious slide of heated skin against skin, Bis muffled his groans into the powerful shoulder muscles below him. Nuzzling into the side of Dastan’s neck, Bis pressed kiss after kiss into the skin and let the burn of his beard make the marks that he knew Dastan craved. The red marks that he would watch Dastan try to cover in front of his brothers. The marks that would be so incriminating if he wasn’t able to claim sunburn. An excuse that Bis would try to stifle giggles during when he watched Dastan try to stutter an explanation to his brothers.

It didn’t prevent him from doing it because he knew that Dastan loved it. The same way he knew that Dastan loved it when he roughly stuck two fingers into his lover's mouth, pulling back a little to whisper, “get them nice and wet for me Dastan.”

A tongue wrapped its way around the offered digits, those blue eyes boring into his own, the colour almost entirely disappearing behind the blown-wide pupils. Sufficiently coated, Bis pulled his fingers back and let them drag lightly down the center of Dastan’s lightly dusted chest to where he knew the man wanted them most.

Pushing inside Dastan’s body as gently as possible, he listened for the quick intakes in breath and when it slowed down and stalled, signalling that the man felt the pain of the intrusion. Something he’d never say, would welcome on occasion, but something that Bis could never bring himself to let happen. Dastan deserved the whole world and even though Bis couldn’t give it to him, he could give him this. But no matter how many times Dastan would beg for, “more,” or, “harder,” Bis would refuse. He would never forgive himself if he hurt Dastan.

“Feel okay?” Bis whispered.

“Bis...please,” Dastan moaned, twisting his hips around, seemingly trying to decide between pressing down into Bis’ hand and pulling away from it to rut up into the air, seeking some sort of friction.

“What do you want Dastan?” Bis asked, scissoring his fingers wide and twisting them sharply enough that he briefly rendered his normally talkative lover speechless, his head rolling back and forth on the mattress in pleasure.

“Please,” Dastan managed to repeat.

With a smirk, Bis pressed the tips of his fingers firmly into the one place inside his lover's body that made his thigh and stomach muscles contract in pleasure, knowing that he was doing the one thing in the world that would render his lover even less capable of coherent thought.

“Tell me,” Bis whispered, letting his voice drop as Dastan’s eyes pressed shut against the waves of pleasure wracking his body.

“In me,” Dastan managed to get out, “please Bis, please fuck me.”

“Well Dastan, I thought you’d never ask,” Bis said, pulling his fingers out of Dastan’s body, pressing his lips into Dastans, and saying lowly, “thank you for asking so, so nicely.”

Raising himself to sitting again, Bis nudged his hip into Dastan’s and whispered, “flip over for me darling,” knowing that Dastan’s muscles would probably still be a little stiff from their training session earlier in the day.

Pressing his palms into Dastan’s strong shoulder blades, the muscles firing to help turn him over onto his stomach, Bis looked over his shoulder for his pants that he’d been wearing. Plucking the fabric from the far corner of the bed, Bis dug out his little flask of oil before throwing the pants onto the floor.

Oiling up his own cock, Bis let out a little hiss as he touched the skin that was probably hard enough to pound wooden tent stakes into hard desert mud. Making sure he was slick enough to not hurt Dastan, he pressed the remainder into his lover's body with a soft kiss to the skin at the junction of Dastan’s neck and his back, the dark brown hair slick with sweat and sticking to the heated skin.

Pressing a line of wet kisses down Dastan’s sweaty back until he couldn’t bend himself over anymore, he lined himself up and whispered, “Ready darling?”

The only response he got was Dastan trying to rut forwards into the sheets below him.

An answer that wasn’t particularly the one that Bis was looking for, he said again, “Dastan.”

“Bis c’mon,” Dastan said, trying to rut forwards again under Bis until he was caught by a strong arm under his waist and hoisting him up into the position he was in before, moaning, “please Bis.”

“Alright, alright,” Bis replied, “breathe darling.”

As Dastan breathed out, “I am,” Bis pressed forwards into his lover’s hot body, muffling the statement behind a whined grunt.

Hands scrambling for purchase on the bedsheets beneath him, Bis pressed steadily forwards, not quickly like Dastan might have asked for on a number of occasions, but not slowly either. Holding his lover’s quivering body firmly and not letting it slide away from him, Bis felt his thighs connect with the soft skin of Dastan’s rear.

Draping his body forwards onto Dastan’s back, he whispered, “so good Dastan, so good for me,” into the sweaty skin, the arm he had underneath Dastan’s hips tightening into an awkward sort-of hug while the other snuck up the sheets to lace into scrambling fingers. He held himself there, as much for Dastan’s sake as it was to stave off the impending orgasm of his own.

“C’mon Bis,” Dastan whined, clenching around him, “move.”

“Alright,” Bis replied, his tone almost teasing as he pushed himself to kneeling, placing both his hands on Dastan’s hips and adjusting where his knees rested on the bedspread, “hold on tight.”

Bis wasn’t kidding when he told Dastan to hold on tight. While he might not be willing to do some of the things that Dastan asked of him, this he could. Slamming into Dastan, relishing in the heat he felt around him, over and over, Bis littered kisses down the tanned back underneath him. Anything he could reach, he peppered with his caress, a stark difference between the grip he had on Dastan’s hips, small bruises guaranteed to blossom in their place by the morning.

Dastan’s head was hung between his arms, now dropped down onto his elbows from his hands, the angle likely even better for him as Bis drilled into his lover’s body. Feeling the coils of lust sharpening in Bis’ gut, his rhythm faltering, becoming less and less coordinated as he released his grip on Dastan’s hips in favour of gently gripping his cock. Trying to pull in time with his thrusts, Dastan started to make the most delicious noises, like the air was being punched out of his lungs with moans and grunts replacing any words.

“Almost there Dastan,” Bis moaned into the skin underneath him, “come on.”

Instead of replying, Dastan managed to push himself up onto his hands again, pressing back into every single one of Bis’ thrusts.

“Come on Dastan, come for me darling,” Bis encouraged him, stroking faster and feeling the leaps and twitches of muscle and skin underneath him.

As Dastan’s arms finally gave out, collapsing face-first into the mattress with a moan, he painted Bis’ hand as he felt the own crest of his high approaching. Thrusting into Dastan three more times, Bis came inside him, collapsing onto his chest with a huff, mind floating on the waves of pleasure.

* * *

He’d gotten Dastan cleaned up, the soft washcloth tucked amongst some of Dastan’s other dirty clothes that would likely be brought to the castle maids in the morning to wash, holding his breath and hoping that the maids wouldn’t recognize it for what it was. Laying back on the mattress, pushing his sweaty curls away from his forehead and wrapping his arms around Dastan, he smiled at his fortune. Both of their fortunes in life.

Even though Dastan’s attention could become divided sometimes, his princely duties took up more and more time as they got older and the King had discovered Dastan’s aptitude for numbers, he’d never forgotten about Bis. Not that day at the market and no day following. They were two of a kind and the whispered words and promises they’d made to each other to distract themselves from their empty stomachs on the streets of Nasaf had come true. Almost every single one of them.

After that day at the market, when Dastan had saved his life then been whisked away by the Royal Guard and the King, Bis thought he’d never see his best friend ever again. That evening, he’d cried himself to sleep, wrapped in Dastan’s coat that he’d left behind. Sulking in the square the next morning, Bis heard the royal trumpets and curiosity got the best of him. Worming his way through the crowd, he’d spotted Dastan on the back of a horse, though almost entirely unrecognizable with his hair trimmed down, his face washed, and dressed in a shade of turquoise that made his eyes look even bluer.

They’d taken him back to the palace with them, Dastan seemingly having convinced the king to let him stay in the Royal Household alongside the older boy.

That felt like a lifetime ago now, riding back within the castle walls, getting stripped down by a handmaid and bathing in the biggest bathtub that he’d ever seen, surrounded by smells he could only imagine in his sweetest dreams. He’d snuck back into Dastan’s chambers that evening and had crawled into Dastan’s bed, right beside his friend.

When Dastan nuzzled closer in his sleep, raising his head just a little and placing it in the center of Bis’s chest, where it had rested every night for years, Bis wrapped his arms around his friend and decided that he would never let him go again.

The next morning, they’d been woken by the same lady that had bathed him the night before, and when she ran her hand through Bis’s curls to wake him, she’d leaned down and whispered, “you should go back to your quarters before the King sees you.”

Elleah was her name. Every night Bis would sneak into Dastan’s chambers and every morning, Elleah would wake him and tell him to go back to his own. As they grew older and Bis kept doing it, he realized that she knew and understood, at least to a certain extent, the bond that they shared. That he and Dastan were more than just close friends.

One morning, when he’d woken to a smattering of bite marks blossoming across his collarbones, Elleah had silently handed him a pot of coloured cream before he’d left. Bis had accepted it with a smile before stuffing his feet into his boots and making his way back to his own quarters.

“The heart loves without law,” Elleah had said one morning as Bis worked to dress, Dastan still sleeping peacefully, “But the law will not protect you how it might the Prince.”

Bis understood what she meant, even though Elleah had never said it outright. If someone found out what they were doing, Bis would be the one punished, not Dastan. In the eyes of the law, Bis was committing a sin. Sodomy. He would be put to death for it, but not Dastan. That, just because Elleah would not speak a word to anyone, it would not mean it would be the same for everyone else.

Holding Dastan in his arms now, the head of the boy who’d grown taller and stronger than Bis had was resting in the center of his chest, his brown hair mingling amongst the gold chain that held his turquoise stone, their hearts beating as one, legs tangled together so much so that he wasn’t sure which belonged to himself anymore, Bis knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Closing his eyes and letting the sleepy feeling overcome him, Bis pulled Dastan closer, knowing that Elleah would be waking them soon enough.


End file.
